Secret Owl Post
by alwaysaclaw11
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger joined the Secret Owl Post, a program that sets wizards up with pen pals. What they don't realize is that they're paired up with each other. Dramione. Based off You've Got Mail - which was based off another movie, which was based off a play
1. Manor Living

Dear Vinewood,

I love the rain. The way it streaks down the windows leaving a little crystal maze. The way it transforms boring potholes into playground puddles for kids. It has its own melody, like words uttered in another language. I wish I knew what it meant. Someone out there is trying to tell me something. I know it every time it rains.

Yours,

Silverhawk

Draco Malfoy tied the note to the leg of his owl and slid open the window, letting the fresh smell of rain into his bedroom. The owl fluttered into the foggy morning.

He had joined the Secret Owl Post program on a dare from Blaise Zabini. The dare was only to try it once. He'd been owling the same person for a month now. They didn't share person information. Heck, he didn't even know the girl's real name. All he knew was that she was a girl and a wizard – and that she was clever, funny and absolutely delightful.

"Draco, dear!" his mother's shrill voice exploded through the door. "Come down for breakfast. And be presentable, please."

"Coming, Mother," he replied before tugging on a pair of pressed black pants and a white shirt. He knotted the then silk tie into tight triangle and squeezed it around his neck. Draco tossed on his leather jacket and slipped on his shiny black dress shoes. When Narcissa Malfoy said "presentable" she meant black-tie formal.

Draco looked at his reflection in the window. Spiffing. Absolutely spiffing. He rolled his eyes. Another day at the Malfoy's.

He stomped into the hallway where he met his mother's piercing glare.

"About time," she snapped.

"It was five minutes and did you know there are some people in this world who don't wear ties to breakfast?" Draco sneered. His mother flicked him in the ear. No matter how old he got, she still treated him like he was an eight year old dragging mud into the house. Why did she even get mad about that? She never cleaned it. The house elves did and she had no problem giving them much more ridiculous tasks like rubbing her feet.

"Those people are not Malfoys," she said coldly.

Draco and his mother stepped into the formal dining hall at Malfoy Manor. His father was seated at the table, giggling with his Aunt Bellatrix, recent escaped convict from Azkaban. (Yes, his family was a delight). Mother ignored them like she always did. She was a pro at pretending Lucius Malfoy wasn't a... what was the muggle word... oh, right man-slut.

His girlfriend, Pansy, was also there, tapping her wand against her hand and changing the color of her fingernails.

"Morning, D," she sighed. Why did his parents invite her here without his permission? This place was a freak show. He didn't need everyone knowing that. Pansy was the biggest gossip at Hogwarts.

"There you are Narcissa. Draco. Take a seat. We're expecting company," said Lucius, a devilish smirk on his pointed, icy face.

Draco sat down between Pansy and his mother. Pansy grabbed his thigh under the table, making his eyes widen. He moved her hand lower. Not really the place for that. Pansy was never one for boundaries.

"Sit up straighter." Mother kicked his shin with her boot sending at jolting pain through his leg.

Draco jumped when he heard the jolt of apparation. He knocked his glass over, shattering it to pieces.

"Draco!" Lucius spat. He flicked his wand and the glass reformed.

At the head of the long table, draped in a floating cloak was the Dark Lord, his snake coiled by his side.

_What a nutter._

**Thanks for reading chapter one. I'm having fun writing Draco in a humorous light. I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are always appreciated.**_  
_


	2. Burrow Times

Dear Silverhawk,

I'm dreaming of rain here. It's unusually hot and dry, even though it's strangely dark. Can't wait until summer is over and the fall brings loads of rain and cozy days inside with hot butterbeer and relaxing nights curled up by the fire. Is there anything better than that?

Always,

Vinewood

Hermione twisted the twine around Errol's leg, hoping desperately the poor old bird could make it to Silverhawk. That was the only bad part about being at the burrow. It was hard to send owls.

Ron and Harry burst into the room. "Dinner's ready!" They shouted at the same time before pounding recklessly down the stairs. Harry had been depressed all summer. It was nice to see him with a smile on his face. Even with everything going on with You-Know-Who's return, it was hard not to have a smile at the Weasley's. Hermione ran her hand through her tangled hair then followed them to the kitchen in her bare feet, denim shorts and pink tank top. She never dressed like that. It _really_ was a scorcher.

The entire Weasley clan was piled around the kitchen table. Fred and George were already fighting over the crispy fresh baked rolls. Hermione could smell the shepherd's pie and pumpkin pasties before she even saw them.

"This looks great!" shouted Hermione to Mrs. Weasley over the chaos. Hermione took the seat next to Ginny.

"Thanks for letting me borrow Errol," she said to Ron, a slight heat in her cheeks. She always felt a little...warm when she spoke to Ron.

"Oh, sure," he said with his mouth full. "Who were you owling?"

Nobody knew about the Secret Owl Post. "Just my mum."

Ron nodded as he shoved three more bites in his mouth. Nobody enjoyed food as much as Ron Weasley.

"Eat up, eat up, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley chimed. " You're skin and bones." She really wasn't. Hermione was healthy, but Mrs. Weasley always made sure everyone was well-fed... maybe even a little extra fed.

It was ten at night. Hermione was relaxing in the candlelit living room with a Potions book open on her lap. She had some studying she wanted to do before term started.

"You should join the game of gobstones upstairs." Ron flopped down beside her. "You know, studying all the time isn't normal."

Hermione glanced up at him but didn't say anything. She returned to the chapter on healing potions.

Ron groaned. "People might... I don't know... not give you such a hard time if you didn't always have your nose crammed in a book."

She slammed the open book down on the coffee table and whipped her head toward Ron. "As hard as this might be for you to believe, I don't study for you Ron Weasley or anybody else. I read and study and work hard for myself. Because I want to. Got it?" Hermione pointed her finger at Ron's chest. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay. Okay." Ron stood and walked upstairs. Hermione pulled the book back into her lap. She had finally admitted it to herself last year. She liked Ron Weasley, but she didn't change herself for anyone. Even him.

**Thanks for the reviews. I always love feedback and hope you keep reading!**


	3. Polyjuice Me

You-Know-Tool had gone off somewhere. _Thank Merlin._ If Draco's life wasn't screwed up enough as it is, he had the noseless wonder sweeping about his house cursing anything that moved. Who was he kidding? It didn't have to move.

Draco didn't get a wink of sleep last night because every four seconds that shrill voice was shouting "Crucio" "Imperio" "Avada Kedavra." His parents had to give _it _the room next to Draco. What was he doing in there? Cursing the feather pillows? Die, down comforter, die! _Gah. _If he said it once, he said a hundred million times. _What a nutter!_

_Peck-peck. _An owl? _Splat._

Draco jumped out of bed and raced to the window. An old brown owl was flapping wildly against the panes. He slid back the glass and pulled the owl inside.

She had never sent this owl before. It looked... deranged. Vinewood must have been in a pinch when she sent this pathetic thing.

Draco untied the letter and then gave the owl a bowl of water. He sat down on the edge of his bed too. He loved the fall and fireplaces... some people didn't understand why they were so great, but she did. She understood everything. He walked to his desk and pulled out his quill and ink.

Dear Vinewood,

Fall can't find us soon enough, can it? You know what it's like to have a wart and no matter what you do it keeps growing back in the same place and its bigger and bigger every time? (Not that I assume you're warty). But I have this house guest and he's pretty much the world's biggest wart. Not to mention he's totally bonkers. Hope your life is free of house guests/warts.

Going crazy,

Silverhawk

P.S. You're welcome to use my owl, if you'd like.

Draco scooped up the batty owl and lofted it out the window. It smacked into a couple trees before finding its bearing and flapping away. He folded up his new letter and tied it to his owl who glided smoothly through the air.

Another whole day trapped in the Malfoy House of Looneys was sure to send him on the next floo to St. Mungo's. He had to get out of there. Draco dug through his school trunk to a secret compartment hidden at the bottom. He plucked it open, grabbed the vial and took a swig.

No matter how many times he drank it, the taste never got better. Neither did the strange sensation of becoming someone else. After a few seconds, Draco was no longer thin and blonde-haired. He was muscled, tan and had wavy brown hair.

_Polyjuice potion._

Draco dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt with brown boots. He had to buy a different set of clothes to fit his transformation, but it was worth it. Draco would go crazy without his secret trips to the muggle world. At least there was still one place where no one had heard of He-Who-Shall-Not-Pass-The-Salt (No matter how many times you ask).

The London air was misty and filled with the scent of vendors baking their sweet speciality treats. Draco walked along the cobblestone path, his hands in his pockets, enjoying every spare moment of freedom.

The garden he loved to go to was right in the center of the city but somehow it was still quiet. He would just sit on the bench and watch people as they strolled by wondering what their lives were like. Sometimes he'd make up stories about what they cared about and who their friends were.

At the edge of garden near several rose bushes, a white tent was set up. A neon-pink sign read: Animal Shelter Adoption Day. There will little metal pins set up in front of all the tents filled with puppies of every breed and loads of floppy-eared mutts. Draco loved dogs but dogs were muggle pets.

And in the midst of all it was Hermione Granger, a chubby little bulldog pup crawling up her chest and licking her face.

This would be fun.

**Loved every second of writing this chapter. I've always thought Voldie would be a little ridiculous and it was fun to write him that way. Reviews appreciated :) Thanks for reading.**


	4. Puppy Girl

Hermione's face was sticky with bulldog slobber. She was trying to pull the pup away from her face but he had a death grip on her sweater.

"Can I help?" a deep voice said. She looked over the wriggling ears to see a tan boy about her age with soft wavy hair.

"If you can just... pluck him off."

The boy smirked and it looked... familiar. Probably nothing. She had never met him before. He reached out and pulled the struggling puppy off Hermione. The bulldog wriggled his way up the boy's arm and plopped down his shoulder.

"Oops..." Hermione laughed.

"Thanks a lot." He wrinkled his nose as the puppy slurped his cheek. "Clingy one, isn't he?"

"Maybe if we do it at the same time. You grab the back. I'll grab the front and we set it loose."

"Okay."

"On the count of three," said Hermione.

"Gee. I hope this dog can't count."

Hermione rolled her eyes and started, "One-Two-Three." The boy grabbed the back of the dog and she grabbed the front. They placed it on the ground and it scurried through the thick green grass.

"Oh, look at this puppy!" said a little girl with strawberry hair. She reached out to the dog and in less than five seconds it was swinging from her pigtails.

"I'm not responsible for that," the boy said. He jumped up on the lowest branch of the tree, kicking his brown boots back and forth.

"You looking to buy a pet?" asked Hermione. She wanted to keep this conversation going for some reason she couldn't explain.

"No my uh... place doesn't allow animals."

"Sorry to hear that. I love them." Hermione scooped up a caramel colored Golden Retriever that squirmed happily in her grip. She loved the feel of its silky soft fur in her hands. "Want to hold him?"

"Maybe I'll have better luck with this one." He grinned. Hermione placed the puppy in the boy's hands. Her fingers brushed over his. The sun reflected off a silver ring on his thumb, a dragon carved into the metal.

"That's a lovely ring. Where'd you get it?" she asked.

"Family heirloom." The boy stroked the puppy's head. "You buying a dog?"

She smiled. "No. I wish. I'm volunteering. No matter how difficult life gets, giving back always makes me feel better. I know it's cliché but it helps you see how there is always a little good left in the world, left inside you. You know?"

"Not really," he smirked, then slid off the tree branch, the golden puppy in his arms. He dropped it gently in the grass.

"Nice to meet you, Puppy Girl." He winked, swiveled around on his heel. Hermione watched him navigate his way through the maze of puppies and pins with inexplicable smile on her face.

Dear Silverhawk,

I'm proud to say I've been wart-free all my life but dad's sister likes to drop by every few years lie on the couch in her bathrobe and insult mum's cooking. She's quite a wart herself. Just promise me you won't go all homicidal on your house guest. I don't think the dementors will let you send owls from prison and I don't know what I'd do without our lovely conversations.

Always,

Vinewood

P.S. Sorry about the owl. I was borrowing a friend's... he's on his last wing. (The owl, not the friend)


	5. Counting Dragons

"Mm-hm... Oh...Really?" Draco mumbled as he stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express, watching the trees whizz past. Pansy was talking again. (Not that she had ever stopped).

There were things he liked about Pansy. Plenty of things. She had silky hair, she was ambitious and, boy, did she know how to snog. There were some other things though, like conversation, that were a little difficult with Pansy.

Draco had no idea what she had been talking about for the last three hours. Her fingernails, possibly. He thought he heard something about either her mother's rose bushes or her raw bunions. Not sure which.

Pansy jumped up from her seat.

"I'm going to go change into my robes. Later, snookums." Pansy kissed Draco on the cheek and sashayed out of the compartment.

Blaise, who had been sitting across from Draco reading a book, chuckled, "Snookums."

"Oh, shut up." Draco leaned his head against the window.

"Sorry, mate... so you never told me what happened with the Secret Owl Post?" He scooted to the edge of his seat.

"I still... I mean we... still... talk every once in a while." If once in awhile is everyday. Sometimes twice a day.

A stupid grin smeared across Blaise's face. "You mean... you still...what's really going on? You sending her dirty owls?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise always had his mind somewhere... else. "Of course not. We just... talk about things."

"What kind of things?"

"Anything. The weather. Pets. Friends. Problems. Like I said anything, but nothing personal." Draco felt the blush in his cheeks.

"Okay. Whatever you say." Blaise reclined back in his seat.

"Come on. I just need someone to talk to... who doesn't... _know._"

Draco laid on his bed unable to sleep. All he could think about were the thestrals. His mother had told him about them as a kid but he had never been able see them before. He had never watched anyone die. Until this summer.

Grandfather had taken ill. Dragon Pox, a usual illness for the elderly, but the death still came as a shock. Draco had been the only one in the room when it happened.

Of all Draco's relatives, he had been closest to his grandfather. He would tell him stories about his days at Hogwarts, give him girl advice. In the last years of his life, he'd seemed to want to impart all his wisdom on Draco.

_Marry your best friend._

Draco found that particularly unhelpful advice from his normally insightful grandfather. As cool as Blaise was he just didn't see him that way. Still he had been thinking more and more about those four words recently.

Draco turned over, feeling the cold sheets on his bare chest. He shoved his head into the pillow. _One. Two. Three. _Counting dragons never worked.

He scooted his trunk out from under the bed and removed a small piece of parchment.

"Lumos," he whispered, illuminating the tip of his wand. He dipped his quill in the ink on his nightstand.

Dear Vinewood,

I can't sleep. It's the worst feeling the world when all you want to do is close your eyes and fall asleep but your mind just keeps replaying the day over and over. It's like I'm trying to make sense of something. I just don't know what it is. But I'm so tired. Writing you helps me sort things out so maybe this letter will help me finally get the rest I need. I hope you're having splendid dreams.

Your friend,

Silverhawk


	6. Family Heirloom

Dear Silverhawk,

Whenever you write me I like to pretend you're standing right in front of me, that I can see your face and hear your laugh. It is so easy to talk to you. I feel like I can tell you anything. Like sometimes I snort when I laugh and loads of people find me absolutely insufferable. Every time an owl flutters through the window, the rest of the world disappears and it's just me and you and nothing else matters.

Truly,

Vinewood

Everything seemed so... perfect. Of course it wasn't. You-Know-Who had returned and was out there somewhere plotting his evil schemes. Harry had been attacked by dementors and almost kicked out of school. Still, Hogwarts felt like Hogwarts. Warm and full of light and bustling with friends.

Hermione was running late for breakfast but nothing was bothering her because she had woken up to a letter from Silverhawk.

Hermione skidded into the Great Hall. All four of the tables were packed with students and mountains of waffles, sausages and fruit obscured her classmate's faces.

"It's a lovely morning," Hermione fell down between Ginny and Harry. "Isn't it?"

"Uh... do you not remember last night?" groaned Harry. "The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts. You said it yourself."

"I know. I know. It's just the sky is really... blue today."

"Okay..." The bench squeaked as Harry stood up from the table. "I'll see you in class."

Ginny watched Harry leave the Great Hall and then whispered. "Who is he?"

Hermione's face felt instantly hot. "Who? He? Who is who?"

"You know who."

"You-Know-Who?"

"Not You-Know-Who. You so obviously fancy someone."

Hermione's first reaction was to tell her about Ron but it wasn't Ron on her mind.

"You can't tell."

"I love secrets." Ginny scooted in closer. Her hair smelled like it looked... like strawberries.

"I've been... using the Secret Owl Post."

Ginny's mouth fell open. "What?" she shouted.

"Shh!" Hermione grabbed Ginny's shoulder. Not everyone needed to know.

"Sorry. So, have you met him?"

"No. I don't even know his name."

"He could be anyone... he _could _be You-Know-Who." Ginny gasped.

"He could not!" Hermione grabbed her books and stood up. What ridiculous thing for Ginny to say. You-Know-Who, indeed.

"You haven't eaten anything yet."

"I'm not really hungry."

"What were you two talking about?" asked Fred from across the table.

"Nothing." Hermione and Ginny said at the same time.

Hermione's mind immediately returned to Silverhawk as she hurried out of the Great Hall and around the corner. Maybe telling Ginny was a bad idea.

_Smack. _Hermione gasped. Draco Malfoy. His books were all over the floor. _Fantastic._

"Watch where you're going, Granger!" he spat. His grey eyes glaring from beneath his white blonde hair.

She said nothing. It _was_ her fault. She wasn't paying attention.

Hermione bent down to pick up Malfoy's book. He had the same idea. Their hands touched. He was warmer than she expected.

_Impossible._

Hermione grabbed Draco's hand.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, his eyes wide with confusion.

It was the same dragon ring the boy from the park was wearing. The boy she had _flirted _with. Hermione was going to be sick.

"It was you!" She shoved his hand away. "You were in the park."

"Just figuring that out." He laughed. "Thought you were supposed to be clever. Bulldog spit is a good look for you." He picked up his book and held it to his chest.

This made no sense. "Wait. What were you doing in a muggle park?"

The sneer fell off Draco's face. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing. Nevermind. You're nobody. You're nothing but your father's reflection."

Hermione expected Draco to spit an insult back at her but he turned and walked away.

He was a jerk. He deserved it. So why didn't she feel better?

**Poor Hermione... :) I hope you all are liking it so far. I'll have more up as soon as I can. Reviews, follows, favorites all super appreciated. Thanks everyone!**


	7. Malfoy Meeting

Every time owls came at breakfast. Draco's heart would stop. Eagerly, he would anticipate opening the package and finding a lovely note from Vinewood. Her calm voice could shut out all the angry, screaming ones.

An owl swooped down and droped a letter in front of him. With building anticipation, he slowly picked up the letter and read the name.

_Lucius Malfoy._

Worst. Owl. Ever.

Draco groaned and opened the letter, giving himself a paper cut. _Ow. _He pressed his mouth to the slowly bleeding cut.

"Are you okay?" asked Pansy before he could answer, she started talking to the girl next to her.

He just shook his head and read the letter.

Draco,

I shall be arriving at Hogwarts at the end of classes today. You will be spending the weekend at home.

Father

He though he'd escaped that horrible place at least until the Christmas holidays. But no. Lucius had to drag him back there for who knows what reason. Probably just to torture him. Yes. Father loved to make other people miserable. Unless they were one of his many, many girlfriends.

With a sigh, Draco lifted his head and saw Hermione Granger sweeping through the Great Hall. Why was he watching her? She _was_ pretty. And as much as everyone thought he didn't like her because her parents were muggles, that just wasn't the case.

First off, Granger was friends with Potter so that's an automatic fail.

Second, she was the world's biggest know-it-all

Third, she was... she was Granger. Didn't need more of an explanation than that.

Still, he couldn't deny that she was pretty, bordering on beautiful and coming closer ever day. But beauty could not make up for the fact that she made him want to pull his hair out.

Father arrived that evening and they walked in silence to Hogsmeade where they took a floo to Malfoy Manor.

The house was packed with Death Eaters. Like some sort of Voldemort lackey convention. Draco half expected the house elves to be running around giving out name badges and I heart the Dark Lord t-shirts. It was insane. Death Eaters were coming out of the walls. Literally. He opened up a cabinet and two of them came out. A couple of them were even nosing around his bedroom. His mother looked absolutely frazzled. She hated having people in her manor and now she had dozens getting their fingerprints on mirrors and leaving their shoes in the middle of the floor.

About a fourth of them, mind you, were known criminals. One was even a werewolf. And not the big-hearted, wooly kind like Professor Lupin but the slimy, crazed kind like from those muggle monster movies "he had never seen".

The worst part of was the Death Eater meeting itself. Father had wanted Draco to witness one before, of course, becoming a Death Eater when he was ready. Draco sat in the far corner of the room. Nagini, You-Know-Who's snake, was slithering around the table looking for handouts like the world's ugliest, creepiest dog and the rest of the Death Eaters were eagerly awaiting their Lord's instruction, who was, as always, hogging the salt.

It pretty much went like this.

You-Know-Who: I am AWESOME

Death Eaters: Applause.

You-Know-Who: Mudbloods suck!

Death Eaters: Applause.

You-Know-Who: Potter is the scourge of the Earth.

(Draco could get behind that one)

Death Eaters: Applause

You-Know-Who: I am REALLY AWESOME.

Death Eaters: Standing ovation.

THE END.

Yep. That was definitely worth coming all the way down here for. There was however one interesting bit of information mixed in with all of that crazy. Something about a prophecy.

At least Draco could go back to Hogwarts tomorrow. More than anything he wanted to be away from this freak-fest. He wanted to return to Hogwarts where he was still Draco Malfoy and he could pretend none of this existed.

An unwelcome thought popped into his head. _Granger. _He had been mean to her. But he was always mean. Why did it bother him this time? Maybe because he had enjoyed talking to her in the park. He regretted hurting her feelings.

Vinewood. She would know what to tell him. But the truth was writing to her wasn't good enough. He needed more. Draco needed to know this girl. He went to his room and sent an owl.

Dear Vinewood,

You may not know this about me but I'm mean. Not to everyone, not all the time. But sometimes I just say things or do things without thinking of how it will affect other people. Especially if it's someone I feel inferior too. I'm going to make you a promise. Next time I get the chance to be mean, I'm going to pass it up. Just once. For you. We'll see how it goes from there. And you are not insufferable. You are delightful. You are enchanting. I've been thinking... we should meet.

Always,

Silverhawk

**Thanks for reading. Draco chapters are so much fun to write. Review if you'd like. I love to hear from everyone.**


	8. Happy Halloween

The library was jammed with people. Hermione had never seen it so busy. There was a crazy amount of people in there for a holiday. She squirmed her way through the dense crowd, bumping into other students along the way.

Hermione was after one particular book. With Umbridge teaching Defense against the Dark Arts, she would need a back up plan to pass her OWLs. This book was a practical reference guide to defending yourself against dark wizards. It was perfect. Hermione snatched it off the stand. The book was nearly bigger than her so she wobbled as she tried to hold it in her arms. Hermione lumbered over to the line and waited.

Finally it was her turn.

Madam Pince glared up at Hermione with her beady little eyes, red from squinting at small print for so many years. "You cannot check out that book. It's a reference."

Hermione had to have that book. Umbridge's ridiculous class ruined any chance of Hermione passing her defense against the dark arts owl. It wasn't her best subject anyway and copying phrases from a thousand year old book was not going to help.

"Please. I'd like to use this to study but I can't always come up to the library." It was true. She did spend a lot of time in the stacks of the library but she wanted to be able to look at the book somewhere more private. An idea was forming in her head – a special study group for defense against the dark arts. This book would be perfect for it. No one else had looked at that book in years. Why did it matter?

A couple of waiting students groaned behind her.

"Sorry," she replied.

The Ravenclaw behind her leaned to a Hufflepuff and said, "She is trying to check out a reference."

More groaning.

"People are waiting," said the Ravenclaw.

"Just hold on," snapped Hermione. People had no patience. None at all.

Hermione almost jumped as someone swept up next to her. Just what she needed. Malfoy. As if this moment wasn't horrible enough.

"Hello, Granger," he said.

"Malfoy," she sneered.

"Do you need help?" he asked. Help? What was he talking about? No she didn't. need help. Not from him. "No. I'm fine." She rolled her eyes.

"Please leave, Miss Granger. You cannot check out this book," snapped Madam Pince.

A charming smile spread across Malfoy's face. Hermione's face flushed and she had no idea why. He scooted her out of the way.

"Good afternoon, Madam Pince."

"You too, Mr. Malfoy."

"It's a beautiful night isn't it? I just love the fall, don't you?" Malfoy said to Madam Pince in almost a whisper. What was he doing? A rosy glow blossomed in her wrinkled cheeks. _Seriously? "_Happy Halloween."

"Uh, Happy Halloween, Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you," he said, graciously. "This is a book, isn't it?" he winked and pushed it toward Madam Pince. "Would you please check this out for me?"

Madam Pince smiled at Malfoy and took the book, writing Hermione's name on the card in the front. Hermione's mouth fell open. How on earth did he do that? Pince scowled at Hermione as she handed her the book.

"Happy Halloween, Granger," he smiled and sauntered into the hallway.

Heat rose in Hermione's cheeks. Malfoy was the most infuriating, slimy little git she'd ever known. He could get away with anything. But at least she had her book.

Hermione made it to the Great Hall for the afternoon Halloween pre-feast. Big orange Jack-O-lanterns cast a spooky glow over everyone's faces. Hermione noticed Malfoy, sitting at the Slytherin table, laughing. Probably at her, she thought.

Hermione squished between Harry and Ron, happy to be surrounded by her best friends. Owls started swooping down. One flew down to her. Silverhawk. Her heart started pounding rapidly in her chest. It was a letter. _From him._

Ever since the start of school, Silverhawk had been sending a different owl. This one was much more common. His other had been one of the most expensive owls you could buy.

"Who's that from?" asked Ron.

"My mum," Hermione answered quickly.

"Your mum writes you a lot," he said, stuffing a big spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Hermione waited to open it until she got to her room.

_Meet?_ Hermione gasped and shoved the letter away. She couldn't meet him. She wanted to, but it was too perfect this way. It didn't matter who he was or who she was. They could just be – no strings, no interfering outside forces.

It pained her to write it but she had to.

Dear Silverhawk,

You can't be as mean as you think you are. At least, deep down because I've never seen anything but kindness and understanding from you. But it's good you can face up to it, if you think it's problem. Let me know what happens when you give up the chance to be mean. I'm sure you'll see it makes you feel better. Trust me. I have this... enemy. It's pretty much this person's life goal to make me as miserable as possible. Sometimes he even has this way of making me feel miserable by being helpful – like he's rubbing it in my face or something. I feel sorry for him, actually. About meeting... my life is complicated right now and I need this the way it is. I feel like meeting would ruin it. I'm so sorry.

Yours,

Vinewood

**Thanks for reading! Hope you're enjoying it. Always love reviews.**


	9. Pansy Malfoy

Draco really wished he hadn't glanced over at what Pansy was writing during Defense Against the Dark Arts. They were supposed to be copying instructions from the text book fifteen times onto their parchment. It was literally the most ridiculous thing he ever had to do (not to mention top ten most boring things he ever had to do). Maybe that was why he glanced over at what his girlfriend was writing on her parchment. Or maybe he just liked to punish himself.

_Mr. and Mrs. Draco and Pansy Malfoy_

_Draco luvs Pansy _(Oh, great. His girlfriend couldn't even spell love correctly)

_Pansy Malfoy_

Then there was a list of strange names with his last name tacked onto the end.

_Muffy Malfoy. _

_Crispin Malfoy. (What the heck was a Crispin?)_

These couldn't have been... but they were... oh, yes, they were. Pansy was naming her and Draco's children. What was wrong with this girl?

"What are you doing?" He found the words spitting from his mouth before he could stop them. Pansy's eyes lit up as she tried to cover the evidence on her parchment. Professor Umbridge let out a high-pitched, obnoxious little squeak.

"Mm-hm." She tiptoed toward them, her froggy face looking particularly sour.

"Mr. Malfoy, there is no talking in my class."

"Sorry, Professor." He hated having to apologize to that sad excuse for a witch. He wouldn't have admitted it if his life depended on it but he'd even take Granger over that candy-floss pink freak.

Professor Umbridge smiled. She was appeased. At least until she caught a passing glance of what was on Pansy's paper.

"Miss Parkinson. What's this?" Umbridge snapped the paper away from Pansy. Draco was going to kill Pansy. "Let's read what Miss Parkinson has been writing while she should have been working."

All the eyes in the class turned toward them. Blood rushed to Draco's face. He had never been so angry in his whole life. Professor Umbridge read every word on that piece of parchment. Even the name Crispin Malfoy. The whole class burst into laughter. Even Potter. Especially, Potter. Well, everyone was laughing but Granger. Why wasn't she laughing? Maybe she was doing for him what he had done for her the other day. Being nice when given the chance to be cruel.

No. That couldn't be. She was probably just planning a better, more effective way to make fun of him.

Professor Umbridge laid the piece of parchment on her desk and then her beady little eyes stared at Pansy. "Detention."

Pansy's mouth fell open. She had never received detention.

_Detention? _That was the best toad-face Umbridge could do, _detention? _Draco was starting to think that Flich's idea of hanging people by their toes in the dungeon was spot-on.

Draco endured the rest of class absolutely mortified. Pansy didn't seem the least bit concerned about the ultimate embarrassment she had just caused him. She was chewing on her lips and furiously taking notes. All she cared about was he stupid detention and that made him angrier than ever.

When class was over, Draco grabbed his stack of books and tore out of the classroom without saying a word to Pansy and ignoring the chorus of snickers that played alongside him.

He hurried out into the vacant hallway trying to put as much distance between him and everyone else as possible. He stopped when he heard a voice calling after him. Draco should have just kept walking.

It was Granger. Fantastic. Just what he needed.

"Are you okay?"

Draco turned around and snapped. "I'm bloody fine. What do you care?"

"Everyone was harsh in there and I just wanted to... to."

What did she want to do? Why was that Gryffindor Know-It-All even talking to him?

"Rub it in."

"No. Repay you for helping me the other day."

Draco huffed. "There's no need for that. I don't want your sympathy anyway." He turned to leave but her voice caught him again.

"Fine, Malfoy. Have it your way. Oh, and good luck with _her._"

Granger spun around on her heel and marched out of the corridor. There he was again. His old self had to re-surface. And why did it only seem to come out when she was around?

Draco slunk off into dormitory, hoping not to find anyone.

The room was dark and dreary, a cold, dusty scent in the air. It made him miss Malfoy Manor and that was hardly any better. Draco had received another owl from his father and afraid it was telling him he was being elected treasurer of the You-Know-Who Fan Club or something, he had held off on opening it. But he figured he was in about as bad a mood as he could get, Might as well get it out of the way.

Draco peeled open the letter and read the words.

Draco,

Your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be starting an Inquisitorial Squad. You will be joining.

Father.

Even worse. He was being asked to join Umbridge's Fan Club instead. He would almost (almost) take the snake-tongued psychopath over her. Still he knew he had no choice. His father would never let him say no.

It had been three weeks since he had spoken to Vinewood. Ever since she turned down meeting him he hadn't been able to write her. He didn't really know what to say. All he knew then was that he needed her.

Dear Vinewood,

I'm sorry I haven't written you. I've been busy and just... confused. But I really need your advice. You always know what to say to me. Have you ever felt like you wanted to stand up for yourself? To tell people to just back off? That you were going to be whoever you were and even if they hated it they would just have to live with it? What I wouldn't give to have the nerve to do that! But even as I write this to you now I know I do not. I will give in as I always have to be what they, what _he_ wants me to be.

Still here,

Silverhawk

**Thanks for reading and reviewing :)**


	10. Mudblood Granger

Hermione was absolutely exhausted. She had been up the past five nights straight trying to work out some new spells for Dumbledore's Army. It was almost the holiday and she wanted as much done as possible before heading home from Christmas.

For the first time, Hermione was really looking forward to leaving Hogwarts. She had had it with Umbridge's ridiculous rules, Filch's stalking about the castle like the great goon that he was and with Inquisitorial Squad, headed by the one and only ferret face, Draco Malfoy. Her sworn enemy.

"Hermione, you need to take a break," said Harry as he entered the common room, his black hair its usual mess and his glasses slid part way down his nose. She never liked him that way, but he was great looking and sometimes Hermione wondered if she could.

"Why?" she snapped. "Because you're embarrassed to be seen with a brainy, bushy haired Know-It-All?"

Harry looked around. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I walked into the room marked crazy lady."

Hermione huffed then looked up at her grinning best friend. "Sorry, Harry. I've just never been as good at defense against the dark arts as you. I need all the help I can get."

"There's a learning curve on these things Hermione. Eventually your brain just shuts down. That curve happened, I'm thinking, yesterday. Come on. Let's go for a walk." Harry took Hermione's hand pulled her to her feet. She tangled her fingers with his, loving the relaxing comfort of Harry's touch.

The halls were mostly empty, illuminated by the sunset light filtering in through the windows. The only sound Hermione could hear was Peeves rolling around the castle, making up some deliciously sinister rhyme about Professor Umbridge. Hermione was actually pretty proud of Peeves for that one.

"What's on your mind?" asked Harry. Hermione hadn't said anything as they walked. She was thinking about Silverhawk... she was thinking more and more about him lately.

"Hmm?" Hermione replied. "Oh, not much. Just a little out of it, you know?"

Harry gripped Hermione's hand tighter as Malfoy, Pansy, Filch and the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad rounded the corner. Hermione felt as though she had been cornered. If Harry hadn't anchored her to the ground she would have taken off running.

"Well if it isn't Potter and his little mudblood girlfriend," said... Pansy? Hermione was deeply surprised. That sounded like something Malfoy would say. He just stood by her side, scowling, but it looked oddly like he was scowling at Pansy, not her and Harry. Hermione chose to ignore it.

"What do you want?" said Harry, she could feel the tension running through his bodyl

"We're just wondering what you were up to, wandering around the corridors, this late, all alone" said Draco.

"What rule are we breaking?"

"The newest one. Boys and Girls can't be within-" Pansy sneered.

"You can stop there, Mrs. Malfoy," said Hermione. Draco was awful but she didn't even know what he could possibly have seen in her.

Draco's eyes widened, his molten silver eyes spat venom at Hermione as he drew his wand and closed the distance between them. Hermione looked down at the few inches separating them.

"I think you're breaking the rule now, aren't you?"

"Shut up, Granger." Draco pointed his wand in her face, looking dreadfully bitter, his normally pale face was pulsing red. She wasn't quite sure why she did it but before he could react, Hermione smacked Draco's wand out of his hand and sent it flying across the room. "How dare you touch Malfoy's wand?" he snarled.

"I hate you, Draco Malfoy." The words exploded from Hermione's mouth. Of all the terrible things Malfoy and Hermione had said to each other over the years, they had never admitted hate.

Draco swept across the hall and snatched his thin black wand off the cold floor. "Back at ya, mudblood."

"Leave her alone," Harry shouted. Hermione shook her head.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. I'm sure Draco's just upset because he's late for his appointment to kiss his father's _bloody_ feet!"

Hermione whipped around and stormed out of the hallway. She would ruin the Inquisitorial Squad and Draco Malfoy if it was the last thing she ever did. But she would need some advice.

That night before she crawled into bed, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and scribbled a note that she couldn't believe she was writing.

Dear Silverhawk,

I'm sorry to hear about your problems. I wish I could say I understood them more, you see I have the exact opposite problem. I am who am I and sometimes that person hurts people. I wish I knew how appease others, how to act to just make people like me. But it seems no matter what I do, people hate me. I might as well just be me, right? Maybe that's the advice you need. To just be you because even if nobody likes you, at least you can like you? Anyway, as a self-professed "mean" person, I need your help. There is one person whose life goal it is to ruin me. Well, I'm sick of it but don't know what to do. I was wondering, the holidays are coming up and I'll have some time off... would you still like to meet me?

With great affection,

Vinewood

**Thanks for reading and reviewing :)**


	11. It's Her

Girls would be the death of him. Not a curse, not a herd of angry buffalo, not even Voldemort. His autopsy report would read: Death by Women.

Draco hadn't even spoken to Pansy. Her level of crazy had far extended past any normal acceptable crazy limitations. He was about to nominate her for the Gold Level of Nutters award presented by Lord Psychomort himself. In Draco's mind there was only one woman crazier than Pansy Parkinson. He shuddered.

_Hermione Granger._

That know-it-all had it out for him.

The only thing that kept him from calling St. Mungo's and having himself committed was the last owl post he had received from Vinewood. She had changed her mind. She wanted to meet him.

No matter what else was going on, this one single though, this one single girl could keep him sane in the mix of all of it. He just had to wait until the holidays. Then he would meet her in muggle London in the park that's decorated in twinkle lights and plays Christmas music. It's just the kind of thing he'd never admit to liking. The kind of thing Pansy would hate. Even though it meant having to return to the Malfoy Manor Creepfest, it also meant meeting Vinewood for the first time. He'd take three weeks of sharing a bathroom with Voldemort for that.

The rest of the term went by quickly. Draco was happy to be home and he was about to meet Vinewood. He had convinced Blaise to come with him for support. Draco was about to meet the girl of his dreams and he wanted to make sure he didn't totally screw it up. He did not want to spend the rest of his life with a son named Crispin.

Draco dressed in nice jeans, shiny black shoes, a black flannel shirt and a black wool coat. He tied a silver scarf around his neck. That was how Vinewood was to know him. She would be wearing a red coat and sitting under the tree by the fountain.

Draco told his parents he was going off with Blaise. They agreed to that. One of the Death Eaters had stolen a Ping-Pong table from one of the muggle houses they raided. You-Know-Who was challenging everyone. So they were all distracted. He was actually pretty good. If he wasn't an evil sociopath bent on destroying the muggles and muggle-borns he might have an promising future in professional table tennis.

Blaise met Draco just outside the manor grounds and they apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. They weren't licensed but they knew how. That was when Draco started freaking out.

"Breathe, Draco," said Blaise. "She's just a girl."

"She's not just a girl. Not to sound like a Hufflepuff, but I'm pretty sure she's the one."

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"That made you sound like a Hufflepuff."

"All I'm saying is that this girl is incredible. She is smart, funny, generous and she understands me. This girl is the most wonderful person I've ever spoken too. I'd have to be crazy to let her go."

Blaise just shook his head and slapped Draco on the back. "Come on then."

The park was beautifully lit with the muggle twinkle lights. Snow had just started falling from the chilly sky and there was a hint of peppermint in the air. Up ahead, Draco could see the fountain. And the bench. And a girl in red coat. His heart pounded.

"I – I can't do this." Draco tried to run but Blaise stopped him.

"You came all this way... I heard what you said about her. You just have to meet her. Okay?"

Nervousness flooded through him but Blaise was right. Together, they walked down the cobblestone path toward the fountain and the girl. She started to turn her head and Draco grabbed Blaise and ducked behind a tree.

"What are you doing?" hissed Blaise.

"I need to see her first." Draco peered around the tree, being careful to not let Vinewood see him. She turned and her face came into view.

His heart stopped.

It was her. _Hermione Granger._

"Bloody!" Blaise shouted. Draco quickly covered his mouth.

"That girl is Potter's mudblood. Your girl is Potter's mudblood."

Draco just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. That wonderful, perfect, sweet Vinewood... how could she be? Oh but it was... everything was ruined.

"What are you going to do?"

"Leave," said Draco.

"But she's the _one_. She wrote you all those letters."

Blaise's words broke Draco's heart. Hermione _had _written all those letters. Those beautiful words to him came from her.

"It doesn't matter. Let's just go."

Draco took one look at Hermione, at Vinewood, her wind-chilled face waiting for someone who would never come.

**So now Draco knows... poor Hermione. Sigh. Read and Review. Thanks everyone!**


	12. Christmas Darling

He was late. The snow had left its wintery mark on the ground which was now littered with the footsteps of bundled-up couples holding hands. Hermione had bought herself a cup of hot cocoa and waited on the bench, her ears stinging with the cold wind. Silverhawk had to come. He wouldn't stand her up. He just wouldn't.

The cold night air was filled with the chiming sound of familiar holiday carols that reminded her of home, of writing Christmas cards with her parents and stringing long garlands of fresh popcorn and shiny crimson cranberries.

Why was he so late?

A gust of wind blew across her face as someone sat down beside her. Hermione's heart leapt. _Silverhawk?_

She turned. It wasn't Silverhawk. Hermione felt sick. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Somebody kill me," groaned Hermione.

"That could be arranged, you know?" Malfoy smirked. His grey eyes shimmered in the lamplight like Christmas tinsel.

"Why are you here?"

"You've seen me in a muggle park before." Draco flicked something off his finger.

Hermione sighed. "It's really cold out here. Where's your scarf?" She thought of Silverhawk. His scarf. How she wished he was here instead of...

"Aww, Granger. I didn't know you cared."

"I don't."

There was a pause. Hermione's eyes looked desperately for any sign of Silverhawk. Nothing.

"You don't mind if I sit her, do you?"

She sighed. "I do. I'm waiting for someone." Why wouldn't he leave her alone? Draco didn't move. He tilted his head back.

"Merry Christmas, Darling," he said.

"What?" Hermione sat up straighter. Draco grinned and then pointed to the speakers hanging on the lampposts.

"The song. Merry Christmas Darling."

"Muggle Christmas music? What a disappointment you must be to your gem of a father."

Malfoy ignored her dig at his father and started to sing.

"I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve. I wish I were with you. Great song." His voice was sweet, like cinnamon and apples. She couldn't believe it came out of his hateful, scheming little mouth.

"Go away," Hermione sighed. She couldn't deal with Malfoy's games tonight. Whatever they were.

He turned and smiled at her.

"You seriously won't leave?"

"As soon as whoever you were expecting shows up." Malfoy digs the toe of his shoes into the snow.

"The Carpenters."

"Hm?"

"Those were the _muggles _who wrote that _great _song. I can't believe you appreciate something made by those cretins called muggles." Hermione rolled her eyes. A couple stopped in front of them and kissed. She looked away.

"I know who they are."

"Lovely." Hermione glanced at her watch. Where was he?

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

Hermione whipped her head toward Malfoy. "I know all I need to know about you. You're a heartless, brainless Death Eater."

"Feel better?" Malfoy asked.

"As a matter of fact-"

"Good. If it wasn't for your blood status you would have made quite the Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" she snarled. Malfoy had quite the nerve calling her a Slytherin.

"Trust me. It's a compliment."

Hermione laughed. "You compliment me? Right. Why are you even talking to me?"

Malfoy touched the collar of her bright red jacket and smiled. "Gryffindor red? Bright enough for someone to spot you from space."

"Get your hands off me."

Malfoy pulled away slowly then combed his fingers through his blonde hair, releasing the faint scent of cinnamon. Then he laughed.

"What is _so _funny?" Hermione snapped. "Please. Just go. Leave me in peace. Bother me at Hogwarts."

Malfoy stood up. _Oh, thank Merlin. _He walked over to the next bench just three feet over. A tall man with striking black hair passed by her. No silver scarf. Hermione's heart sank a little more.

Malfoy was examining the silver dragon ring on his finger. "This ring reminds me of the first time we ever had a civil conversation. You know that?"

"You mean the time you tricked me?" Hermione rolled her eyes. She was still freakishly embarrassed that she had fallen for Malfoy's polyjuice potion.

"I wasn't there to trick you."

"Just a perk, then?"

"Only sort of."

"I thought you were so adorable with that stupid bulldog. Ugh. I make myself sick."

"I never directly lied to you, did I?" He folded his arms across his chest, his bottom lip sticking out slightly. Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, please. You did it all on purpose. You were spying on me, Draco Malfoy!"

Malfoy sauntered back over to her bench and sat down right next to her. His body was touching hers. Why was her face hot?... Anger.

"I'm not a spy."

"Gee, I'm so sorry for you. You poor, sad _Death Eater_." Hermione rolled her eyes. She was done with him.

Another guy passed by them. His cheeks were bright red and he was about as wide as the sidewalk. He waddled back and forth like a penguin.

"Doubt that's the guy you're waiting on." Malfoy laughed to himself. "So who are you waiting for? I have a sneaking suspicion it's not Potter... or the bumbling, ginger Weasley, is it? No. It's someone else. Well, I certainly hope you're nicer to him."

"I will be! Because the person who is coming tonight is kind and thoughtful and cares about me. He's also quite funny-"

"Well, where is he?"

Hermione pursed her lips, hate boiling inside her. "I am sure he has a perfectly good explanation. He would never, ever hurt me on purpose. Not that I expect you to know what that's like. All you do is hurt people. And it's not even because you want to. It's not that you _won't_ think for yourself Draco Malfoy. You _can't_!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Malfoy's cheeks blushed red and he stood, his face lacking emotion. "That's it for me. Merry Christmas."

Malfoy disappeared into the crowd. Hermione dropped her head into her hands. That had been an awful thing to say. And on Christmas Eve. Hermione stood up and walked home. Silverhawk had never come.

Dear Silverhawk,

I waited for you. For a long time. You never came. Someone else did though. Someone who has made my life an absolute hell for years. And I told him exactly how I felt about him... and I felt so awful about it. Not that it matters to him. I'm nothing more than scum on the bottom of his shoe. But I realized something. Nothing gives us the right to be cruel. Nothing. I didn't know who else to talk to... I wish we would have met tonight. I really hope you have a good excuse for not being there but if not, I just want you to know how much all of this has meant to me.

Your dear friend,

Vinewood

**Well Merry Christmas in August folks. Thanks for reading and reviewing :)**


	13. Train Trapped

Christmas morning Draco received an owl from Vinewood... from Hermione Granger. He would have to get used to that – to accepting that this mysterious girl he had been falling for was the Potter's muggle-born Gryffindor best friend. _Yikes._ Draco read the words that Hermione had written him and then stuffed the note into his school truck. He considered throwing it away but couldn't bring himself to do it.

He finished out the holiday, hiding in his room for the absolute nonsense swirling about him. Draco thought he was going to implode like an old collapsing star. Just BLAM – black hole. Finally, the Christmas break was over and Draco headed back to Hogwarts.

Draco arrived early to the Hogwarts Express, hoping that he could get into a compartment without seeing anyone. Especially Hermione Granger. He could not face her, not now. He found the first open compartment and hid inside.

The door slid open. It was Blaise.

"Hey," Blaise nodded and flopped down on the seat across from him. "How was your holiday? After... you know..."

"Do NOT ask." Draco groaned and smacked his head on the wall behind him.

The door opened again. Oh, please, no. Pansy.

"Hello, snookums," she said and scooted in next to Draco. It was an odd, lackluster snookums that caught Draco off guard. Not that he was crazy enough to ask if something was wrong.

A couple other people piled in the compartment. Goyle. Nott. Pansy's friend, Daphne Greengrass. They were all chatting about the next semester, Professor Umbridge, and the Inquisitorial Squad. Everyone in the compartment but Daphne and Blaise were members.

The train jerked to a stop. The door snapped. Did they lock? Draco shot straight up.

"What's going on?"

A few just nodded, others said, "Don't know."

"Are we locked in here?" asked Daphne, chewing on her nails. Goyle tried to push the door open it wouldn't budge. Draco could not be stuck in this train car with these people. He pulled out his wand.

"Alohomora," said Draco. Nope.

"Nice first year spell, Malfoy," said Nott.

"It was worth a try." Draco flopped back down on the seat. What was he going to do with these people until he got out of there? Curse them, maybe. Well all of them except Blaise... maybe Daphne. She wasn't that bad. He couldn't curse Pansy. She was his girlfriend. Fine. No curses – just complaining.

"We're stuck. We're stuck," muttered Pansy. She started banging on the door. "Get us out of here! You better get us out of here right now!" Bang. Smack. Whimper. "Right now! Do you understand me?" Pansy slid to the floor in defeat.

"Can you calm your girlfriend please?" snarled Nott to Draco.

"Pansy, get off the floor." Yeah. That was as calming as he could have been. Daphne was breathing heavily and fanning her face, but remaining calm. "You okay, Daphne?"

"Yeah. I'm just a little claustrophobic that's all."

"Just breathe. They'll get us out soon. Worst case scenario we break the glass and jump out the window, right?"

Daphne smiled weakly.

"Maybe if we ran at the door we could bust it open," suggested Goyle.

"Seriously?" asked Blaise.

Goyle shrugged. Everyone clamored to their feet, counted to three and rammed with all their strength into the door. Nothing.

An hour later, they were all sitting together, huddled up and talking. The cold air had leaked through the windows so the closeness was helping.

Pansy was twirling her hair around her finger. Over and over. It was starting to make Draco dizzy.

"When I get out of here," said Daphne. "I'm going to start being nicer to my little sister. I mean if I would sat with her like she wanted I might not be stuck in here." She let out a half-hearted smile.

"I'm going to stop punching people – at least not in the face," sighed Goyle. _Good goal. _

"I'm thinking of dyeing my hair blonde," said Pansy.

"I'm going to give that Hufflepuff girl, Monica, a chance," sighed Blaise, his eyes facing out the window.

Vinewood. Hermione. That was all he could think of.

"When I get out of here-"started Draco.

"I'm so hungry!" whined Pansy.

"Sorry, folks." A voice called from outside the door. It squeaked open. "You're out now."

Best. News. Ever.

That night Draco did what he should have done a long time ago. He broke up with Pansy Parkinson. Sure she broke half the things in the Slytherin common room, but it was worth it.

Dear Vinewood,

Tonight something happened. I'm not sure what it was but everything became clear. I wish I could tell you why I wasn't there the other night. It's personal... the kind of thing we never talk about. All I can say is I'm working on something and it's very important. I'm truly sorry I hurt you. You were hoping to see someone you cared for and instead met someone you hated. Can you forgive me? I'll be waiting to hear from you.

Yours,

Silverhawk

Vinewood may have been Hermione Granger, but he still couldn't just let her go. He was hardly breathing without her. He prayed she'd write back to him.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing :) :)**


	14. Potion Problems

"I think something awful happened like an accident or something and he couldn't come," said Hermione as she sat on her bed in the girl's dormitory, leaning against the headboard. Ginny sat at the foot of the bed. She had never heard back from Silverhawk and it had been weeks.

"I can't believe he didn't come," said Ginny. "You've been all gooey about him for months."

Hermione sighed. "I have _not _been gooey."

Ginny raised a questioning eyebrow. Fine.

"Maybe a little gooey," said Hermione.

"Still. I'm sorry you got stood up."

"He didn't stand me up. Something happened... why didn't he come?" Hermione shoved her face in her hands. "What if he did come and when he saw me, he left?"

"That did not happen. No one in their right mind would take one look at you and walk away."

"Maybe he was apparating to London and got splinched."

"Exactly," said Ginny smiling. Somehow imagining that Silverhawk had been in a horrible accident was making her feel slightly better than thinking he had stood her up. It wasn't something she was proud of.

"He could have gotten hit by a muggle bus."

"And he couldn't send an owl from a muggle hospital," said Hermione. She waited for Ginny to join in and give her another reason for Silverhawk's absence but Ginny just had a concerned, pensive look on her face.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

Ginny reached over to her trunk and pulled out the Quibbler.

"The Quibbler?"

"It's from Christmas."

Hermione took the Quibbler and read the front page article. "Nargles attacks continue in Romania?"

"Not that one. This one." Ginny flipped through a few pages and pointed at an article.

"You-Know-Who spotted in muggle London." Hermione read the cover. _What on earth? _"What are you trying to say?" She was not in the mood to worry about Voldemort tonight.

"Well," said Ginny. "Maybe... I mean you were in muggle London that night... what else would he be... and you don't know his name. Think about it. It explains everything. Someone saw him and so he had to run before they got pictures. Wow... you could be dead right now."

Hermione's mouth fell open. She thought they'd gotten past this. Ginny had lost it.

"Silverhawk is _not _Voldemort."

Ginny shrugged. "All I'm saying is the last time I wrote to someone and I didn't know who it was it turned out to be Voldemort."

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was impossible. She tossed the Quibbler over to Ginny's trunk. "I think your biased."

Ginny laid back on the head. They remained in silence for a moment. "How long did you stay there by yourself?"

Hermione laughed, the awful memory of that night flashing back. "For awhile, until Draco freaking Malfoy showed up."

"What?" Ginny shouted and sat straight up.

"Please. Do not ask." Hermione paused "Come on. We should get to class. I've got potions."

Snape was standing at the front of the classroom looking even more sour than usual. Hermione sat between Ron and Harry who were discussing quidditch across her. And, for some reason, that Hermione could not possibly understand Draco Malfoy was sitting across the room from where he normally sat (which was next to Pansy). Instead, he was sitting squarely in front of them.

Hermione tried to focus on making her potion but it was becoming difficult because her mind was always on Silverhawk. She just wanted to hear from him. She was probably going to have to get used to the idea that Silverhawk was never going to talk to her again. That thought made her dizzy.

She was chopping some squid tentacles, their slippery, purple juices dripping all over her hands. It's was pretty disgusting and not the easy thing to do but she had it figured out.

Malfoy turned around and looked squarely at her but said nothing. Her eyes flickered to him and the back to the tentacles she was slicing.

"Hermione," said Malfoy. Hermione froze. He had never (ever) called her Herminoe before. They hadn't spoken since that night at the park. "How do you do that?"

Ron and Harry were both staring at Malfoy now, their eyes fixed and furious. Hermione adjusted uncomfortably, trying to decide whether or not she should answer.

"Do what?" she sighed.

"Cut the tentacles into slivers like that. Every time I try I just mangle them."

Was Draco Malfoy asking her for help? This had to be a trap, but she didn't know how.

"Like she's going to help you," spat Ron. Hermione glanced over at Ron. She probably shouldn't help him.

"How are you cutting them?" asked Hermione. Malfoy scooted over so she could see his process. He was holding the knife loosely at the end and trying to cut length wise up the tentacles but they kept slipping away.

Harry was gaping at her like she'd just done the unthinkable. Really, she had.

"What am I doing wrong?"

Huh? Did Malfoy just say he was doing something wrong? This was getting weirder and weirder and weirder...

"Uh," said Hermione. "You need to choke up on the knife." Malfoy scooted closer to her, gripping the knife. She sighed. "Like this." Hermione's face flushed as she placed her hand on Malfoy's and slid it up the handle of the knife. Her fingers lingered briefly on his skin. His eyes met hers. Her stomach lurched and she pulled away. "Just cut them horizontally. That should help."

"Thank you, Hermione," said Malfoy as he turned back around to face his cauldron.

Harry and Ron were both staring at her, eyes wider than she'd ever seen.

"Seriously," Harry whispered. "What _was _that?"

Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea." She really didn't.

That lunch an owl came for Hermione. It was from him. From Silverhawk. Her heart pounded as she opened it. He didn't tell her where he had been, or mention meeting her again. That was all right. They could just write letters their whole lives.

That would be enough for Hermione... well, almost.

_Her hand on Draco's..._

Hermione pushed the thought away. She only wanted to think about Silverhawk.

Dear Silverhawk,

I hope your important project goes well. I'm sure it means a lot to you and whatever means a lot to you means a lot to me. You don't know how happy I am to hear from you. I so miss our conversations. Nothing, nothing, would make me want to give them up. When I write to you, the pain in the world seems duller, and all the joy so much brighter.

Yours always,

Vinewood

**Some sweet Malfoy in this chapter. Well just have to wait and see what he's up to. Love to my readers and reviewers! You make me want to keep writing.**


	15. Hospital Visits

Potter and his gang were up to something. He kept seeing people sneaking around the corridors, chatting in whispers. Draco should go tell Professor Umbridge. He was part of the Inquisitorial Squad (though less than half-heartedly). And he would still get deep, unspeakable pleasure from turing Potter in and making Potter's life as miserable as his own. But to turn in Potter was to turn in his friends, and Hermione Granger was one of his friends, and Hermione Granger was Vinewood. And he was...

Well, yes, he was in love Vinewood. So he'd keep his mouth shut. Besides whatever Potter was doing it probably had something to do with fighting You-Know-Who and no You-Know-Who meant a bathroom all to himself again.

Draco walked down the hallway, his hands in his pockets. The halls were packed with students buzzing from class to class. He liked how he could just disappear into the mix. It was comforting. Draco was searching for Blaise. Blaise had said he had something to tell him.

Longbottom accidentally bumped into him. Draco was about to come up with one of his signature Longbottom's a moron jokes but Draco heard him say something that stopped him.

"Poor Hermione. She's so sick. In the hospital wing."

Hermione? In the hospital wing? What was wrong? If Potter got her hurt doing whatever ridiculous thing they've been up to all year, he'd kill him.

About twenty minutes later, Draco pushed open the door to the Hospital Wing with one arm. He was holding a book in the other. All but one bed was empty, their white sheets pulled tightly over the mattress. Only one bed was filled.

Hermione sneezed. Her nose and cheeks were bright red and her hair was tied and bushier than he'd seen it since third year. She was sticky and sweat and sniffling. But that didn't stop him from wanting to...

_Draco. Get a hold of yourself._

He cleared his throat. Hermione turned to look at him and jumped.

"Hey, Granger," he said.

"Malfoy? Why are you here?"

"Can I come closer?" He inched forward.

"I'm contagious." She sneezed and then wiped her nose with a tissue.

"I'll take my chances." Draco smirked and sat down on the bed next to hers.

"I'm not sure I should talk to you right now?"

"Why not?"

"Pomfrey's got me on all these weird potions and tonics and I'm not entirely sure everything I said wasn't in ancient greek."

"I can assure you that was in English. And perfectly understandable."

There was a long pause.

"Hey," said Draco.

"Why are you always showing up everywhere now?"

"I heard Longbottom say you were sick. I was... concerned." Draco had trouble getting out the word concerned. His entire life he had been trained to hate people like Hermione Granger and he just couldn't see why anymore.

"You _hate _me."

Draco sighed, adjusting the book in his hand. "I don't hate you."

"You've made my life miserable."

"I'll give you that."

"So you come here with a -what is that?"

"A book."

"You come here with a book to what? Enjoy my suffering?" Hermione sniffled. Draco pulled a tissue out a box and handed it her. She rolled her eyes and took it.

"No."

"To make me feel worse?"

"No. Am I making you feel worse?"

"No. I don't know."

Another awkward pause. Draco just sat there on the bed, staring at Hermione, unable to take his eyes off her red and puffy but still perfect face.

"So, uh, how's Pansy?" asked Hermione.

"Don't know. Haven't talked to her."

Hermione adjusted in her bed so she was sitting up further. "Isn't she your girlfriend?"

"Ex."

"Because of the Mrs. Malfoy thing? Sorry. I don't know why I brought that up."

Draco kicked his feet up onto the bed. "That's okay. I'm getting used to your comments now."

"Still doesn't give me the right. Now you'd probably go." Her big brown eyes shimmered. It was probably the illness but it still looked beautiful. Draco felt heat rush to his face.

Draco slowly stood to his feet. "I brought you this." He extended it to her. She took the book.

"Thanks. This is Anne of Green Gables?"

"Yes."

"My favorite book." Her brow furrowed.

"Yes."

"How did you know that?" Hermione looked up at him defensively.

"I heard you saying it to Potter in class once." That, of course, wasn't true. She had said it in one of the letters.

"Hm. I don't really remember that. But thanks. It's lovely... I really don't get why you're being so nice."

He flops down on the bed and groans. "Do you have to analyze everything?"

Hermione sighed and flipped through a couple of pages.

"Who _were _you meeting when I ran into you in the park Christmas Eve?"

Hermione shook her head, her cheeks blushing even redder. "I'm sorry about that night. About what I said to you. I had no right to imply-"

"It was my fault. I should have just left you alone."

"Yeah. But I still had no right."

"And I did? Why because I'm pure Malfoy Death Eater evil to the very core?" Draco moved from the bed next to Hermione's onto the foot of her bed.

"Pretty much."

Draco smirked. There she was again. Always insulting him. He would be mad if it wasn't sort of cute. If it was anyone else... if it wasn't Vinewood...

"I've made your life hell," said Draco. "Said terrible things to you. You have everything right to hate me." She really did and he knew it. But it killed him that the one girl he wanted more than anything might hate him forever.

"I don't hate you," she sighed.

"It wasn't about you, you know? All the things I said."

"Like mudblood?"

"They were just things I heard. I would have said them to anyone. It wasn't a personal attack."

Hermione whipped her head toward him. "What does that even mean? It wasn't a personal attack. It felt personal. It felt pretty damn personal when my twelve year old self was crying about it."

The thought of making Hermione cry made Draco sick. He had been awful.

"I think I just yelled to much. I'm dizzy." Hermione laid her head on her pillow. "Why are you here again?"

Draco scooted closer to her. "I thought maybe we could like sort of... friends." Wow that sounded ridiculous. But it was true. He wanted to be friends with her... more than friends. Still he wasn't going to push that yet.

"We can't be friends."

"I guess you're right. Death Eater's son, Muggle-born. It would never work. You never answered my question about who you were meeting in the park?"

"I haven't seen him."

"Why not? You really... like this guy right?" Please say yes. Please say yes.

"Yes. Very, very much."

YES. YES. YES. Draco heard Blaise's voice in his head telling him to stop being such a Hufflepuff.

"So what's wrong? Why aren't you with him?"

Hermione sighed and shoved her head into her hands.

"You're going to make fun of me forever. And for once you'll have license to."

"Why's that?"

"Never met him."

Draco smiled. "You don't mean... did you sign up the Secret Owl Post?" He laughed.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not. Trust me. I get the appeal." He gently stroked Hermione's hand then pulled away. "He's a lucky guy. You should meet him."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Maybe."

Draco leans close to Hermione, he can feel her body tense. He tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Feel better, Hermione."

He smiled and walked out of the hospital wing. He was in love with Hermione Granger. Draco was as much of a nutter as You-Know-Who.


	16. Hogsmeade Chats

Dear Silverhawk,

I've been thinking about this. A lot actually. I know things didn't really work out last time, but I really think we should meet. Let me know what you think.

Always,

Vinewood

Hermione stood in the owlery. The cool early spring wing blowing against her face . She tied the letter to one of the school's owls and it flew out the window, flapping its white feathery wings over the rolling Hogwarts grounds that were just beginning their yearly rebirth. The air smelled sweetly of the fragrance of blossoms as she headed to the library to study. There wasn't much else to do with Umbridge running the school like she was some sort of militant dictator.

At least she hadn't cancelled Hogsmeade weekend. Luckily, Umbridge wouldn't even be there. Hermione had overheard Blaise saying to Pansy that Umbridge had a meeting with the Minister so she would be gone all weekend. Pretty much the entire school was celebrating.

Hermoine spent the rest of the day studying, hanging out with Harry and Ron (a pastime she missed), thinking of Silverhawk and, occasionally and regretfully, Draco Malfoy. His blonde hair. Those grey eyes. His smile. His laugh.

That evening Hermione received an owl from Silverhawk. Her heart beat rapidly as she opened. What would he say?

She tore open the paper and read the words.

Dear Vinewood,

I'd love to meet but I'm still in the middle of that project. I promise when the time is right, we will meet. There is nothing more I want do than meet you. You are sweet and clever and funny. I think about you all the time. The truth is, even through our little owl conversations, you still manage to make me a better person. I owe you so much.

Yours always,

Silverhawk

Hermione went to sleep with Silverhawk's words on her mind. In her dreams.

The next morning she got ready for Hogsmeade just to find out that while she was reading in the common room last night, Harry, Ron and Ginny got in trouble for fighting with Crabbe and Goyle and were banned from going to Hogsmeade. Hermione almost didn't go but she had some stuff she wanted to get from Honeyduke's and Ron and Harry both had things they wanted her to bring back for them.

The Three Broomsticks was bustling with patrons, as always. People piled around the tables drinking and eating and laughing. It was welcome sight compared to the dreary world of Hogwarts under Professor Umbridge.

"One butterbeer," Hermione ordered. The thin man poured her drink. She paid the man and went sat down in a small vacant table by the window.

It really was nice to be away from Hogwarts. She never thought she'd say that but with things had gotten really intense. It was like here she could breathe again, even in the musty atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks.

"I've been thinking," a cool voice said. Hermione looked up from her drink. Draco Malfoy.

"Sounds like a new experience for you," she blurted. Draco didn't react other than to raise just one of his eyebrows. "Sorry," she muttered. "What have you been thinking about?" Being pleasant to Draco Malfoy was still not an easy thing to do.

"Your owl post guy."

Hermione sighed. She should just get up and walk away but she couldn't bring herself to do it. "Silverhawk."

"Sounds kind of pretentious to me."

"You don't know him."

"But _Silverhawk_." He laid his chin on his hand and leaned forward, his shimmery eyes focused on Hermione. Her hands started to shake. "I mean come on. Who does this guy think he is?"

"I kind of like it," said Hermione, staring back at Draco finding but finding it increasingly difficult to look at him directly.

"You finished?" There was just a little foam left at the bottom of Hermione's mug. Draco drank what was left of it. "Good. I need some stuff from Honeyduke's." He grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her to her feet.

Why she went with him she didn't know.

Honeyduke's was as usual packed with people. That was a good thing. It was too chaotic to notice that Draco and Hermione were actually kind of together there, speaking and being civil and all that.

"Do you like these?" he asked grabbing a handful of any-flavor beans.

"It's kind of hard to like or dislike them."

Draco shrugged and dropped the beans into his mouth.

"You have to pay for those."

"I will," he said with his mouth full. Draco chewed, his face going from a glistening white to pea green in a matter of second. "Oh. Uck." He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed then pounded the display case with his fist.

"You okay?"

"That was pepper... and ear wax... and I think banana. Peppery earwax banana. Not a flavor I'd recommend." Draco's face slowly returned to its typical pale shade. Hermione was trying not to laugh.

"Gross," she said.

"I need something to get that flavor out of my mouth." Draco grabbed three giant red and orange swirled lollipops.

"Those are bigger than your head," said Hermione.

"That's why I like them."

"I just realized you have a really small head."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"Well your precious Silverhawk probably has a big head. A giant one maybe. Swollen to the size of two watermelons from thousands of bee stings."

Hermione took one of Draco's lollipops. "I wouldn't care."

"It's nice to know what turns you on. Giant bee sting heads."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's unlikely he has a giant bee sting head." She picked up a few of the things Ron asked her for and then box of chocolate frogs for herself. They'd always been her favorite.

"So why haven't you met this guy yet?"

Hermione groaned. "I don't know. It's kind of driving me crazy really. He says he's working on a project."

"A project? What does that mean? Oh I know. He's trying to get the bee sting swelling to go down – or maybe your love is forbidden. Like oh, I know who he is." Draco covered his mouth with one of his lollipops in faux surprise. "It's Professor Snape."

Hermione laughed. "I doubt that – although Ginny did think Silverhawk was You-Know-Who."

"I do?"

That's a really confusing name. "No. I mean Lord Voldemort," she whispered his name. Hermione had gotten used to saying Voldemort over the past year but it felt different saying it to Draco whose father was a known Death Eater. "Which is completely ridiculous."

"Completely," he grinned.

"The only thing I care about when it comes to Silverhhawk is, besides the Voldemort thing, the house elf thing. I could never be with someone who has a house elf."

Draco frowned. "I have a house elf. Guess that seals it. We'll never be together."

Hermione let out a small laugh. "I think that fate was already sealed, Draco." Hermione placed what she wanted to buy onto the counter and paid for it. Draco followed her (with a little extra for the handful of any-flavor beans).

"It's was... nice running into you like this," smiled Draco. "Maybe we could do it again sometime. Next Saturday. Around noon."

Hermione paused. Was he asking her out? Was she about to say... "Sure." Yep. She said it.

**Thanks for all my readers, reviewers and followers. I still love reviews. We're getting near (ish) the end. Hope you're still enjoying it.**


	17. Forbidden Forest

The wind blew cool over the Hogwarts courtyard. The sky was Ravenclaw blue cut with strips of wispy, white clouds. Draco reclined against the trunk of a tree, enjoying the shade.

He had spent the last week begrudgingly helping that crazy cat lady suck the remaining joy out of school. She was worse than Voldemort. The guy was out of his mind but he was not afraid to have a little fun, albeit evil, dangerous fun. The only things connecting Draco to his sanity were Hermione and her letters.

Dear Silverhawk,

Things are really hard right now. Everything seems to be falling apart. Sometimes I just start crying and don't know why, but I try not to let anyone see. But I trust you with all of me. I wish you were here with me. I wish you could hold me. You're the only one I trust.

With love,

Vinewood

He'd lost count of how many times he read the words. He needed them. And, it seemed, Hermione needed him, but telling her wouldn't be easy. Draco had wanted to tell her so many times but never could. He didn't deserve her trust, let alone her love. But, Merlin, he loved her. Draco loved Hermione so much it made it hard to breathe. If they were ever going to be together, he would have to do something. And something big. But what?

Hermione stepped out from the shroud of the castle. Her face glowing in the afternoon sun. She wore jean shorts and a light pink sweater. Her wavy hair, that once seemed so bushy and unmanageable, was now lovely, bouncing and full of life. It was pulled to the side in a pony. She was alone, not a Potter or Weasley in sight. Just the way Draco liked it.

Their eyes met and Draco's stomach dropped. Hermione checked around, Draco imagined, for any witnesses to their meeting, and when she realized the coast was clear jogged up to Draco.

"We still on?" she asked timidly.

Draco smiled. Not a sneer or a smirk. A real smile. "Of course. Come with me." Draco latched onto Hermione's wrist and dragged her toward the twisted line of trees at the edge of the grounds.

"The Forbidden forest?" Hermione's voice cracked. "You know why it's called forbidden?"

"Because it's forbidden. Just the way I like it," said Draco. It wasn't really true. At least, it never had been. Doing as he was told was one of Draco's greatest skills, but Hermione had changed that. She was forbidden and she was also everything he ever wanted.

They ran into the cover of the trees, the temperature instantly dropping. The air was also wetter there, almost damp enough to drink.

"What are we doing out here?" Hermione said.

"Getting away from the prying eyes of the Inquisitorial Squad."

"Aren't you on the Inquisitorial Squad?" asked Hermione, shivering. Draco slipped out of his green cardigan and draped it over Hermione's shoulders.

"Yeah, but if I was a dedicated member I would have told Umbridge about you and Potter's little club. What's it called? Oh, yeah. Dumbledore's Army."

Hermione's eyes widen and her pink lips pursed together. "You knew?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"You're not?"

Draco shook his head. She still couldn't help it. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Sorry," she muttered.

"No worries."

"Why haven't you told?"

Draco studied Hermione as she shrugged into his cardigan and began buttoning the buttons. "Have you met him?"

"Met who?"

"You-Know-Who."

"Potter -"

"I didn't ask if Potter had met him I asked if you had."

Hermione slid down and leaned against a mossy rock. "No." Draco fell down next to her.

"Well I have. And the guy's a psycho."

Hermione laughed, her nose scrunched up and pink. "Never thought I'd hear you say that."

This would be the perfect moment. The time to say it. There was something else, a secret that Hermione would never think Draco had. That he loved her. That he was Silverhawk. His whole body shook.

Draco turned and stared into Hermione's honey colored eyes. She sharply drew in a breath. He wanted to form the words but they weren't coming out. He was barely holding on. He wanted to kiss her. To tangle his fingers in her chestnut hair and feel her sweet lips against his chapped ones.

He leaned in. She leaned in too. Hermione jumped to her feet.

"What is it?" asked Draco.

"I forgot."

"Forgot what?"

Hermione's hand were shaking. "I have a meeting. You know a _meeting_. I'm sorry."

Draco climbed to his feet. "Can't they do without you for a moment?"

She shook her head and backed away from Draco like he was a threat, like he would hurt her. He would die before he hurt her. Again.

"No. I'm sorry. I have to go," said Hermione. She turned from him. Anger pulsed through Draco. He grabbed Hermione's wrist.

"Don't."

Hermione let out a long sigh, her head titled slightly. She wasn't pulling away from his touch. "Just because I have to go, doesn't mean I want to."

Draco relaxed his grip on her wrist. He nodded.

"You know we can't, right?"

"Silverhawk?" he said, feigning a laugh.

Hermione smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that said a lot of things that Draco did not want it to say. "Goodbye, Draco." His name was heaven on her lips.

**Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I should be back on a normal updating schedule now. Also, sorry this chapter is short. Things are going to get a little more intense and because of the back and forth POV I have to cut it when I need to switch perspectives. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	18. The Prophecy

The door cracked with every slam, every bit of pressure. How were they getting in? Their secret place had been compromised. And Hermione happened to know that one of the Inquisitorial Squad knew of their meetings. Did Draco tell?

Members of the DA were trying to escape before Umbridge caught them. Hermione and Harry were helping some of the other members out when Umbridge finally breached their room. Hermione's heart dropped. They were so dead, so expelled. She didn't care as much as she thought she would, at least about the being expelled part. Her trust in the Ministry was weak at most and then was the last straw. Hermione was just plain angry.

Pansy Parkinson grabbed Hermione's arm and twisted it. She winced but didn't let it show. Pansy jerked Hermione to the left and there was Draco. His face betrayed no emotion and though he didn't look upset about them being caught, neither did he appear glad of this turn of events. Still, she had almost _almost _kissed him. In that moment, Hermione had wanted to. She wanted to feel his lips against hers, his cold hand on her face. Thank Merlin she didn't let him kiss her.

All the anger she ever felt for Malfoy boiled up inside her like a poisonous potion that exploded from her lips. "You make me sick, Malfoy. I hate you. I really hate you."

He pursed his lips and Hermione could see emotion in his face. Sadness. Nothing but sadness. She didn't have time to think of anything but Draco Malfoy's face as she was dragged from the Room of Requirement to Professor Umbridge's office.

Her Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna were all gathered in Umbridge's Office along with several members of the Inquisitorial Squad, including Draco. Hermione's stomach churned. She was trying to hold back her nausea. One the way to the office Hermione witnessed something that she couldn't get out of her head. The word sneak across a member of the DA's face. Her hex worked. It wasn't Draco that turned her in and she had blamed him, said she hated him. Still, in heart she wasn't sure she didn't mean it. He had done so much to her over the years. Forgiving him wasn't easy. It probably wasn't even smart.

Snape had burst in and Harry had managed to let him know about Sirius, alerting the Order, but that wasn't going to stop Harry from going after Sirius. He was the closest thing Harry ever had to family.

"I guess we're going to have to punish you," Umbridge said, her voice far too delighted for the words coming out of her mouth. Pansy still had a death grip on Hermione and Draco was merely standing behind Ginny, not even touching her. "Cruciatus curse should-"

"That's illegal," Hermione shouted. What was wrong with that woman? Cruciatus curse.

"Hold your tongue," Umbridge squealed, a sound that just made Hermione more angry.

"You can't!" Hermione tried to step forward but was pulled back by Pansy. Her eyes flickered to Draco. He was mouthing something. What was he? Was he mouthing something to her?

She watched him for a moment, unable to make out the words. Draco lifted his hands and pretending to stroke something under his chin... like a like a beard and his lips... yes, they could be saying something. Dumbledore, maybe?

Then he fisted his hand and started moving it back and forth. What was that? His lips moved in what looked like a two syllable word. He swung his hand around like he was flicking a wand, sighed and then held his thumb and pointer finger – like a gun. A weapon.

Dumbledore's Secret Weapon. That's what Umbridge has been after.

"Don't!" screamed Hermione. "Stop! I'll tell you."

"Hermione, no!" Harry struggled away from Umbridge.

"I'll take you to Dumbledore's Secret Weapon."

Umbridge grinned. Of course, there was no secret weapon, but it bought us a way out, a way to get to Sirius Black.

That was it. Draco Malfoy had just given them a way out. But why?

Thanks to Grawp, Hermione and Harry escaped Umbridge. Now they could get to Sirius. Harry wanted to go alone. He always wanted to go alone, but they wouldn't let him.

The Department of Mysteries glimmered blue with the rows and rows of prophecies. Harry wandered through the halls, searching for the one for him and Voldemort. Finally, he found it. The simple glass ball of blue light that had caused all their problems. It must have been a terrifying thing for Harry.

"Let's go get Sirius," said Hermione. Just then, a tall wizard with long blonde hair and familiar silver eyes stepped out of the darkness. Lucius Malfoy. Hermione's face flushed. He looked so much like Draco. But he wasn't Draco. Not at all.

Lucius and Harry were arguing. The tension was thick, heavy. Hermione couldn't focus on the actual words being said, she focused on the feel of the moment. The emotion.

Hermione screamed. The prophecy exploded in Harry's hand. Everyone gasped. Hermione whipped her head left, the direction the red light had come from.

"Draco?" snapped Lucius. "Draco you idiot, you're terrible aim has just ruined the Dark Lord's plan! Do you know what he'll-"

"My aim is fine, Father," snarled Draco. "Stupefy." Another red light burst from the end of his wand and slammed into Lucius, knocking him backwards and into the prophecies. Like a waterfall they streamed down from their resting place. The sound was deafening, but Hermione was focused on Draco. He had just done something big.

Something very big.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. Just two more chapters! I know it doesn't follow canon exactly but I wrote this section to be what I needed for Hermione and Draco's relationship. Hope you enjoyed it!**


	19. Grimmauld Place

Everything inside and around Draco was spinning. Like his mind and his body were both being swallowed in the chaos he had just created. Blue lights exploded like tiny little stars and a river of ghostly whispers engulfed them, hundreds, thousands, of fates unwritten by a swift flick of his wand and dozens of letters. Those letters had changed everything.

Draco was going to be grounded for the rest of his life. What was he thinking? Father was going to kill him.

But that didn't matter. Hermione did. And she needed out of there before the Noseless Wonder used one of his well-practiced avada kedavras on his favorite target: a muggle-born.

Draco couldn't move. His mind was too full of a combination fear and reckless bravery to think about running, but he had to get Hermione out of there. Draco raced toward her, weaving and ducking around the cascade of prophecies. There was a loud squeal. Draco looked up. One of the towering shelves was teetering. Draco leapt to his right but a rush of wind blew past him and heavy sharp metal smacked against his head as the shelf came crashing to the ground.

Blackness leaked into his vision. Draco fought to keep it out, to stay awake, to get to Hermione, but the darkness was too strong. It overtook him.

The darkness peeled away, slowly revealing the dim world. There were candles and lamps on the coffee table and hanging on the wall. The light, bitter scent of tea. Where was he?

Draco blinked, trying to get his blurry eyes to focus. As his vision cleared, bright eyes and wavy hair came into view. Hermione was sitting on the floor, scribbling on a slightly curled piece of parchment.

He coughed a view times. Hermione shot straight up, almost knocking the candles off the table.

"Draco, you're awake." Her voice moved over him like a river. She glided over to his side, her mouth opened slightly.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

Draco slowly tried to sit up. A rush of pain shot to his head.

"Slow down," said Hermione. She reached down and grabbed a bag of ice and placed it on Draco's head. "We've done a few healing spells but no one here is really good at them."

"What's the Order of the Phoenix?"

"It's a group of people dedicated to fighting Voldemort."

"Did you and Potter create-"

"No. Dumbledore did during the last war."

Draco let out a long breath. "People are okay with me being here?"

Hermione grabbed a rag and wiped away some of the water that was dripping from the bag of ice and wiped Draco's brow. He shivered at the touch. Not because it was cold, but because Hermione had never touched him like that. So gentle, so caring. "No, they're not," she finally replied. "But you helped us and where else would you go?"

She was right. He had no where else to go. Voldemort surely wanted him dead. His father probably even more so.

Draco stared at Hermione, his vision finally at full capacity. Her eyes were glassy, red.

"Have you been crying?" asked Draco.

Hermione turned her head away from Draco. He gently rested his fingers on her chin and pulled her head to him. "Yeah," she whispered.

"What happened?" Draco's heart started pounding.

"Sirius Black." Hermione whimpered then pulled herself back together.

"He killed someone?"

"No. Of course... oh." Hermione sighed and pulled the ice away from Draco and sat it on the ground. "I forgot. You wouldn't know."

"Know what?"

"Sirius Black. He didn't betray Harry's parents. He didn't kill all those people."

"What?" Of course, he did. Father said - oh, Father probably lied. Father lied a lot. Some people liked to play Quidditch, Lucius Malfoy liked to lie.

"He was set up. The real murderer was Peter Pettigrew."

The name sounded familiar. He'd heard it before but not often... Wormtail. That's what Voldemort always called him. "The guy with the metal hand?"

"You know him?"

"I've met him... total nutter. He was really friends with the Potters?"

Hermione nodded. "They put their trust in the wrong person."

"Wait... if Sirius Black didn't kill someone..."

"He died," Hermione answered abruptly as if he to drag it out would have made it so much worse. "Bellatrix - The Killing Curse."

Draco felt sick. Bellatrix was his aunt. She was certifiably insane and a world class tramp. Besides, if Sirius hadn't been the one to betray Potter's parents that meant he was still his godfather and probably the closest thing he had to real family. "How's Potter doing?"

Hermione half-smiled. She had to be surprised Draco asked about Potter. Draco was surprised too but Potter mattered to Hermione so by default Potter mattered to Draco. It was a jacked up system. But it was a part of being in love.

"Not well. He hasn't come out of his room. I was in there with him for awhile. Now Ron is."

"I'm sorry... what happened to Bellatrix? Did someone-"

Hermione shook her head. "No. They all went to Azkaban."

"Really? Even-"

"Yes. Your Father too."

Draco felt a quick pang of sadness replaced almost instantly by satisfaction. "I think that's a suitable place for him."

Hermione let a small laugh escape her lips. Draco smiled and noticed the piece of parchment and the ink stand and quill again. "Who were you writing?" he asked.

A light blush rose on Hermione's cheek, making her even more beautiful. "My mum."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Nobody blushes when they write their mum. "Really?"

"No."

"Silverhawk?"

She crossed her arms. "What does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't. Can we send owls from in here? This place looks kind of, uh, locked down."

Hermione glanced down at the parchment. "No. But I'll send it when we get back to Hogwarts tomorrow. Writing to him makes everything make more sense. And right now, I really need things to make sense."

"You've really got it bad for this guy, haven't you?"

Hermione leaned in, close enough that Draco could feel the heat of her breath. "I love him. So much. I'm in love with him and I don't even know his name."

"Yeah. It could be something really awful like Neville Longbottom or Ron Weasley."

"Hey."

"Kidding."

"No, you're not."

Draco sighed.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"I just think it's unfair. I mean this guy could be anyone - he could be a total dog - and you wouldn't care. He's waited until the exact right moment to meet you. When you're so completely convinced that you could never love anyone else."

Hermione stared at Draco, but it was a soft stare like she was searching for something in his eyes. "Oh Draco," she sighed.

A long pause. "Do you ever think about - if I hadn't been son of Death Eater and you hadn't been the Gryffindor princess-"

"People call me that?"

Draco smiled. "Sometimes... do you think that, if we just met."

"Please, don't."

"We would have never hated each other. We could have just been... together."

Hermione's eyes were wide, almost like she was looking for an escape but she just stayed there staring at Draco.

"Why can you forgive this guy for doing something totally awful like standing you up and you can't forgive me for ... you know, making your life miserable for five years?"

Draco leaned in closer to Hermione. She didn't back away but she didn't say anything or lean in either. Never in his life had Draco wanted to kiss someone this much. He needed her touch, her sigh, her perfect lips moving against his. But he couldn't. Not now.

Hermione pulled away. "I should go to bed." She stood up from the couch and grabbed the parchment she was writing on.

"Goodnight Hermione."

She smiled and walked out of sight.

Hermione had left a stack of parchment and her quill and ink. Draco slowly climbed off the couch and crawled over to the parchment.

Dear Vinewood,

I've finally finished my project. I was hoping we could meet. Meet me at Platform 9 3/4 when you get off the train.

Love,

Silverhawk

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'd love your thoughts on these last chapters! Thanks for sticking with this story. We're almost at the end. You all are awesome!**


	20. The Platform

Hogwarts felt different. Better. Brighter. Dumbledore had come back to school, Voldemort's return had been proven and Draco Malfoy. He was different, kinder, than she had thought he was.

Hermione was folding her shirts and packing them into her trunk when Ginny came into the room. Everyone else had already moved out.

"Hey, Hermione," said Ginny. "Almost ready?"

"Almost."

Ginny flopped down on the bed. "Good. I'm ready to go home. You?"

"Yeah," said Hermione. She wasn't really listening. Her mind was on Silverhawk and, yeah, Draco Malfoy too.

"What's going on?" asked Ginny. "Something is up with you."

Hermione sighed. Was it that obvious? "Nothing is up." She felt heat rush to her cheeks.

"Right." Ginny rolled her eyes. Hermione zipped her suitcase.

"Fine. He's meeting me today."

"Who?... Oh! You-Know-Who." Ginny winked.

"Not funny." Hermione dragged her trunk off the bed. It clunked against the wooden floor.

"So you're really meeting him?" asked Ginny.

"If he shows." Hermione couldn't help but be worried about a repeat of what happened at Christmas.

"He'll show. If he didn't want to meet you, he wouldn't have agreed to it a second time. Are you nervous?"

Hermione laughed. "I've never been this nervous in my life."

"..."

"What?" Hermione asked. Ginny's eyes were squinted like she was trying to use leglimens on Hermione, though Hermione knew she couldn't.

"It's just back at Grimmauld Place you seemed a little cozy with a certain blonde Slytherin with abs like cement."

"Ginny!" Abs like... they weren't...

"What? It's true."

Hermione's heart pounded at the thought of Draco Malfoy. His pale face made paler by the candlelight. The sparkle of his silver eyes. She had to stop thinking about him. Silverhawk was the one. He was. He had to be.

"He's not... that wasn't."

"I'm just trying to figure out what would have brought a Malfoy over to the good side. It's one of two things. Money or chicks. That's all I'm saying. And we're certainly not paying him."

Hermione had tried not to think about what changed Draco's mind. Whenever she tried to figure it out, it just made less sense. It was contradictory to everything Hermione had ever believed.

"Come on, Ginny. Let's go."

"Sorry," she said, standing up from the bed. "I just want you to be happy."

Hermione nodded. "Thanks, Gin."

It was a chilly spring day. Hermione almost regretted the blue flower print dress she was wearing but she wanted to look her best for Silverhawk and it was her favorite dress. She wore a light cashmere grey cardigan over the dress.

Ginny was standing by her side when she caught a glimpse of Draco standing by himself, the sun shining down on his face. Hermione smiled.

"I'm just gonna go talk to Luna." Ginny nudged Hermione, laughed and walked over to Luna, who was tying her shoes. Guess she finally found them.

Draco turned toward Hermione and smiled. She exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath. Draco looked incredible. He wore a pair of jeans and an emerald green t-shirt with a black high collar jacket which made his face even whiter and his eyes sparkle with their metallic flecks.

"Hey," said Draco softly. "Nice day isn't it?"

"A little chilly."

Really? They were going to talk about the weather?

"You look beautiful," said Draco. He really needed to stop saying things like that. Hermione was losing her resolve and she only wanted Silverhawk.

"Thanks. You don't look bad yourself... how is everything?"

"Mum's leaving Father."

"Really? I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize. It's been a long time coming. And it'll be nice to get away from him and just be with Mum."

"So is she done with the whole Death Eater thing?"

"She was never a Death Eater, but yes. Not that I think she'll be singing up for the Order."

"And you?"

Draco smiled, his eyes focused on Hermione. "I'll help when I can."

Hermione smiled back. Draco really did look happier, lighter than she'd ever seen him.

"How is Potter holding up?" asked Draco.

Hermione shrugged. It was strange seeing Draco not hating Harry. "He's alright."

"Let me know if I can help with anything... not that I have any money anymore."

"How poor _are_ you now?"

"We'll probably have to share a mansion with another family." Draco smirked.

Hermione laughed and Draco just stared at her. Merlin, he was beautiful. What was she thinking? She was meeting Silverhawk today.

"Is that?" In the distance, Blaise Zabini was leaning in and kissing... Hannah Abbot? She was a Hufflepuff. The world had gone mad. Absolutely mad. But in some ways it was a good kind of mad.

Draco turned around, laughed and then turned back to Hermione. "They look very happy."

"Yeah. They do."

"We should probably get going," said Draco. "Don't want to be late for the train."

"No. We wouldn't want that."

"Well." Draco stepped forward and gently stroked a lock of her hair. "Have a good summer, Hermione."

"You too, Draco."

He bowed his head and with a smile, spun around and walked toward Blaise. With her hands sweating and her heart pounding, Hermione took one last look at Draco and then walked over to where Harry, Ron, Luna and Ginny were all standing.

"What was that?" asked Ron, his arms folded defiantly across his chest.

"Nothing," said Hermione. Nothing at all. And it was nothing. Her eyes found themselves wandering back toward Draco. It could never be anything but nothing.

"Malfoy has finally lost it," said Harry. "Though I wished we had a picture of him stupefying his father. That's something I never thought I'd see and I'd love to see it again."

"He said he'd help," whispered Hermione under her breath. She didn't even mean for anyone else to hear it but they did. It was just a reminder for herself, of the kind of man Draco had become.

"Help with what? We don't need Malfoy's help," said Ron.

"Why should we turn down help?" asked Hermione. This old Weasley Malfoy feud was getting old.

Ron opened his mouth to speak but Harry butted into the conversation.

"Hermione's right. I dislike Malfoy as much as you do but I think he's shown us we can trust him."

"He's still a right foul git," snarled Ron. Something about this insult made Hermione clinch her fists. This year had changed a lot of things and one of the things it changed for Hermione was the way she saw Draco Malfoy. He was a lot of things, many of them less than pleasant, but she no longer though of him as 'right foul git'.

"Of course," laughed Harry. "Come on. We'll be late for the train."

They all climbed on board the Hogwarts Express. Hermione sat by the window, leaning her head against the glass and watching the countryside twist and move and roll. She didn't hear a word the others said. All she knew was at the end of this ride, Hermione would be standing face to face with Silverhawk. She would finally know who he was. She could reach out and touch him. Oh, how she wanted to.

King's Cross Station buzzed with hundreds of voices both muggle and wizard, expressing every sort of emotion, excitement, sadness, anticipation. It was much warmer here than it had been at Hogwarts. Sweat starting to trickle down Hermione's neck, but that could have also been the nerves.

"Goodbye, Hermione," said Harry. She hugged him close, taking in one last moment of familiar. The Weasleys had already left. Hermione was on her own.

Hermione walked through the curved brick divider that was Platform 9 ¾ and reemerged in the muggle world. It was still strange how muggles didn't notice. This area was less packed, but lighter as well, as sun streamed in through the partially glass ceiling and lit the faces of the travelers and their families that could to drop off or collect them.

She stepped out of the way, hoping to look obvious for Silverhawk but not so obvious she seemed crazy. It was a fine line to walk.

Her palms were sweating. Hermione wiped her hands on her sweater. Her heart was beating rapidly and time seemed to be at a stand still. Would he show up this time? He had to.

While she waited, thoughts drifted into her head. Unwelcome ones. Thoughts of grey eyes and slender arms. Of a worried smirk and a creased brow. Of green ties and tight black cardigans.

She had to stop.

Hermione jumped. As if by magic, her thoughts had materialized before her. It was Draco Malfoy.

His cheeks had been blushed by the heat, he ran his hand through his blonde hair, pushing it away from his eyes.

"I'm meeting someone," she said. Draco needed to leave. If Silverhawk saw her with him, maybe he'd just walk away.

"I know," he said, his voice a raspy whisper.

What did he mean he knew?

Draco moved toward her with a force, a dedication, that said no power, magic or muggle, could stop him from closing the distance between them. It was overwhelming. Like the ocean. A singular feeling, one that could never be repeated.

Tears started forming in her eyes though she didn't know why.

They were standing toe to toe. Hermione could smell the pinewood and caramel. His scent. His eyes were so grey. Merlin, they were so bloody... silver.

"Vinewood," he said it so quietly it seemed to come from somewhere other than his lips, like from inside her, from the very core of the universe.

A flash like being racked by a powerful spell shot through Hermione. It so was strong she almost stumbled. Visions crossed through her head. Moments hidden in time like ghosts now living, breathing. Obvious.

The way Draco had changed. What he said at Christmas. How long did he know? The time at Hogsmeade. In the forest. The almost kisses. The almost everything.

The project that needed fixing.

Draco Malfoy was Silverhawk.

Draco's hand fell against her cheek, sending volts of electricity through her. She was coming alive at every end. She couldn't help it. Tears leaked from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. Draco wiped her tears away with his thumb.

"It's okay. It's okay," he said softly.

He was trembling against her skin. Hermione stared into his eyes, her mind searching for what to say. There were so many questions, but she had to face the truth. Hermione had been falling for Draco, seeing him for who he truly was. The capacity he had for kindness, joy and sacrifice. She had fallen for Silverhawk long ago. Believed in her heart that he was the one. The end game. Her perfect other. And here was this beautiful boy, his hand gently stroking her face, both Draco Malfoy and Silverhawk. He was everything and everything to her.

"Please say something," he whispered, his breathe hot on her ear.

"I'm so glad it's you," she said.

Draco's eyes fluttered shut then a smile crossed his lips. He dipped his head down and caught Hermione's lips in gentle kiss. She placed her hand in his soft blonde hair and pulled him closer. She wanted him closer.

They leaned against Platform 9 ¾ the world swirling around them and none of it mattered. Not tomorrow, not the next day or month or year. Not as their lips moved against one another and hands held each other. There would be obstacles for them. Plenty of obstacles for a muggle-born and a Death Eater's son, but they would face them all as they would face everything.

Together.

THE END

**I can't believe it's over. I had so much fun writing this. Writing the last chapter was terrifying because I love all my readers and really wanted you to enjoy the end of the story. I hope you did. Thanks for sticking with it and for all the lovely reviews. I appreciate the time and the thought. Please leave a review if you've been reading this to let me know how you liked the last chapter and the story itself. Thanks again and lots of love. **

**(Also, in the next few days I'll be starting a new story based off the Beauty and the Beast fairytale called The Curse of Malfoy Manor. Maybe some of you will check that out. Thanks again.)**


End file.
